


Mine Alone

by myrish_lace



Series: Law of Attraction [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dark Jon Snow, Dirty Talk, Except still ultimately sweet Jon Snow, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Porn With Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: After hearing her good friend Margaery talk about her latest escapades with Oberyn, Sansa’s persuaded to try seducing Jon into being a little less gentle for a night. A green dress and a friend's wedding provide the perfect opportunity.***Sansa, Jon and Margaery all work for the Tyrell law firm, and Sansa and Jon got together after working on a trial several months ago. Jon and Sansa are now in a happy, committed relationship, and Margaery's determined to get them to spice things up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an entry for the Day 9 “Fantasy” theme of @jonxsansafanfiction “15 Days of Valentines” on tumblr, and got away from me, so here we are 4000+ words later. :) It'll be on tumblr tomorrow.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: Okay y’all, this is like the baby steps, training wheels version of Dark Jon here. I’ve wanted to try this for a while. Jon is still sweet, but there is a component of the story where he's demanding, and if that bothers you I totally understand, and would ask you not to read this particular installment because I would hate to upset someone - that's the last thing I would want to do!

"Really? Not once, you and Jon?" Margaery cocked an eyebrow at Sansa.

"No Marg, he's sweet."

Margaery waved a hand loftily. “Of course he is, dear. But that's not the point, is it? I've spent the last twenty minutes gushing about – are you going to blush before I say it?”

Sansa wished she could stop the flow of blood to her cheeks.

"Having mind-blowing jealous sex with Oberyn, look at you, you're like a ripe tomato, and given how many _very_ technical questions you asked about the up-against-the-wall part, you can't tell me you're not interested."

Sansa sipped her martini. She was interested, she had to admit. But Jon was kind, and thoughtful, practically worshipful in their bed, and she was happier than she'd ever been.

"Just because you and he have prime, fresh-vanilla-bean ice cream sex does not mean you can't occasionally try something else, you know."

“Could you stop being a mind-reader?” Sansa was momentarily irked.

“We were roommates for three years, dear. Look, swim in sweet sex as much as you like, Sansa. Just, you know, try something different once every four months." Sansa twisted her hands together.

Margaery sighed. “Right. Let me ask this in a different way.”

Sansa was no fool. “I'm not a witness on the stand, Marg. I'm not falling for your courtroom tricks.”

Margaery’s mouth twitched. “Play along, OK? I’m going to make this a story about ice cream. Call it an ice-cream hypothetical.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “We’ve been out of law school for five years now.” Sansa and Margaery used to snicker together about the elaborate hypothetical scenarios their professor would use when making a point about property law.

“Hush. So you and I go to that cute ice cream parlor you love uptown. They’re giving out samples. I somehow persuade you to tear yourself away from the cartons of vanilla to try Rocky Road.

“Seriously? Rocky Road? That’s the best you can do?” Sansa wondered if it might be time to leave the restaurant.

“You try some,” Margaery continued blithely, “and your eyes roll back in your head. You make that noise you reserve for orgasmically good food. Let’s say I mention it to Jon–”

“You are not mentioning this to Jon!” Sansa’s hiss was loud enough that a few other patrons turned to look at their table.

Margaery put a hand on her arm. “No, I am not, because this is a hypothetical, so stop staring daggers at me and pay attention. Don’t you think Jon would buy you Rocky Road ice cream? Wouldn’t he want you to have it? As far as I can tell, that man spends every minute of his day asking himself ‘how can I make Sansa happy’? You know two scoops of that ice cream would be waiting for you in a sundae glass when you got home.”

Sansa twirled the stem of her glass. Jon would do that, Margaery was right. “But Marg – don’t I have to make him jealous? Doesn’t that mean making him upset?”

Margaery shrugged. “Maybe for a hot second. He’ll probably be a lot less upset than he was with you last week when you took the train home in the snow rather than catching a cab. Remember? Didn’t you call him overprotective? Didn’t he call you reckless? Aren’t you still in love? Love’s like an ocean, Sansa. You may have fights, there may be waves on top, but the bottom is steady and deep.” Margaery rested her chin on her steepled fingers and smiled.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to be dirty or profound.” Sansa looked around in vain for the waiter, to try to get the check.

“My point is you both love each other to bits. Not only would you survive jealous sex, you might like it, and there’s another activity you can enjoy on a Saturday night apart from...whatever it is you do in your apartment now, stare into each other’s eyes adoringly and play Scrabble?

“He won last week,” Sansa whispered. Maybe Margaery’s idea was worth considering. “Ok, so...say you’re right and I want to try it.”

“I’m right, and you want to try it.” Margaery smirked.

“How does it work?”

“Excellent question.” Margaery settled herself in her chair, just like she did at work before embarking on writing a brief. “It’s much, much easier than you think. Men, in general–”

“Marg–” Sansa wasn’t interested in a lecture on the Difference Between Men and Women.

“Sweeping generalizations are allowable in this classroom, dear. Men, in general, have a possessive streak. Women do too, but that’s the advanced course, and let’s keep you focused on the basics for now. Men are also, typically, visual creatures. Assume this: Jon wants you to be naked, pretty much all the time, and wants to have sex with you, pretty much all the time.”

Sansa was taken aback. “But we work together. How does he get anything done?”

The corner of Margaery’s mouth quirked. “Ask him someday. Anyway, if he sees you sidling up to another man – preferably in a revealing dress – some part of his mind will want to get you out of that room and underneath him in a hurry.”

Sansa swallowed. What would it be like for Jon to rush, to need her so much he wasn’t entirely gentle? She wasn’t sure, but the goosebumps on her arm told her she wanted to find out, how it would feel, to have him–

“You have a wedding to attend next weekend, right?” Margaery’s question snapped her back to the present.

“Marg, I am not seducing Jon at a wedding.” Sansa’s high school friend Jeyne was marrying Antonio, whom she’d met when studying abroad in Italy. Jeyne and Sansa’s brother Robb had dated for a few years, and the break-up had been amicable. They’d stayed friends, and the Stark family was invited to the Westerling celebration.

“Why not? You’ll feel safe, with your family there. A little extra leeway to be bold.” Margaery successfully hailed the waiter with a small crook of her finger. “Wear the green dress, darling, the one with spaghetti straps that looks like it’s clinging to you from sheer force of will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa’s nerves were singing the following week as she put on her chandelier earrings for the wedding. She’d pinned her hair up with a jeweled clasp, and the backless dress showed off the long, graceful lines of her neck. She was wearing the sheerest panties she owned, the only ones that wouldn’t show under the green silk. She already felt heat and wetness between her legs at the thought of what she was about to do.

 _Here goes nothing_.

She grabbed her clutch from her vanity and stepped into the hallway. Jon was in a tuxedo, and attractive enough to take her breath away. He came over to her and kissed her cheek, then her mouth. He took his time, cradling the back of her head without mussing her hair, and she was blushing when he broke away. “You are stunning, Sansa. What are you thinking about?”

Sansa trailed her finger down Jon’s lapel. “How handsome you look.”  _And how I plan on making you jealous tonight._

“I almost don’t want to let you go.” Sansa let herself lean into him for another minute before pulling back and swatting at him playfully. “We’re not missing Jeyne’s wedding, Jon. My whole family will be there. They’ll be glad to see you.” The Starks had taken to Jon right away, and Sansa was starting to field questions from a well-meaning Robb about when Jon was going to make an “honest woman” out of her.

“No, of course not.” Jon ran a hand through his hair and his eyes dropped to her lips again. “Though if it were a different wedding, I might try to talk you into it.” His fingers tightened at her waist briefly before he went to get her coat.

They arrived a few minutes late to the ceremony. The old stone church with vaulted ceilings was a few miles outside of downtown Chicago. Antonio’s family was wealthy, and while they didn’t flaunt it, they’d pulled out all the stops for the big day. Jeyne was radiant in her beaded ivory gown, and the afternoon light that filtered through the stained glass windows lent their vows a magical air. The reception was a blur of gold and purple, with high floral centerpieces that looked elegant in the grand ballroom.

Sansa and Jon made the rounds at the reception before sitting down to dinner. Robb hugged Jon and asked him, loud enough for Sansa to hear, when he could expect to see Jon and Sansa in a church next. Sansa squeezed Jon’s hand reassuringly afterwards. “Just Robb being Robb, Jon.” Sansa had grown to care for Jon, a lot, over the past year and a half. She even thought she might be falling in love with him, though she hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him yet, despite the ease with which Margaery tossed the word around when it came to her relationship with Jon. But she didn’t intend for him to feel pressured into anything. More selfishly, if he ever proposed, she wanted to say yes, knowing he’d come up with the idea on his own.

Jon smiled at her. “I don’t mind, Sansa.” He looked ready to say more, but the first course was announced. They found their table and tucked into the most delicious chicken parmesan Sansa had ever tasted. Antonio’s best man gave a speech entirely in Italian, and several of Jeyne’s tipsy bridesmaids looked ready to jump on him for his accent alone.

Sansa was seated next to Jon, of course, and Robb’s friend Theon was on her right. Sansa didn’t think particularly highly of Theon – he wasn’t known to treat his girlfriends well, and he had a lot of them, often at the same time. Even he looked handsome tonight, though, she thought idly as they made small talk. Whoever had invented tuxedos deserved some words of thanks.

After Antonio spun Jeyne around the dance floor, the guests were invited to join them. Jon traced his hand down her back, and she felt a pleasant shiver go through her. She was about to take Jon’s arm, when Theon broke in. “May I have this dance, Sansa?” Sansa swallowed, thinking this was likely her best opportunity. “Of course, Theon. You don’t mind, Jon?”

Sansa saw a flicker of irritation behind Jon’s eyes, but he was courteous, and Theon led her to the floor.  As she swayed in Theon’s arms, she caught Jon staring at her out of the corner of her eye. The next few times she danced with Jon, he held her closer than usual, as if they were slow-dancing in their kitchen. A few guests gave them disapproving looks. Sansa ignored them and melted into Jon’s embrace. She blocked out everything except the subtle note of his spicy cologne – he rarely wore it, but he knew she liked it on him – and his own scent underneath. Jon kept tracing her bare skin, and she marveled at how such a light touch could make her crave more. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured after the third dance, and she nodded, eager to leave.

Sansa went over to kiss Jeyne on the cheek and wish her a wonderful honeymoon in Hawaii. Jon said his goodbyes too. Sansa noticed he already had her coat. He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the steps to the car, and she didn’t think it was entirely to protect her from the cold.

They made good time on the way home. Jon rested his hand on Sansa’s thigh during the drive. He was unusually quiet.

“What are you thinking about, Jon?” Sansa broke the silence at a stoplight.

Jon glanced at her and squeezed her thigh. He gave her one of his rare smiles, the kind she treasured. It lit up his face, and she hadn’t seen him smile that way for anyone else. “Just how glad I’ll be to get you home.” They pulled into the parking lot twenty minutes later.  

Jon slid the key in the lock and held the door to their apartment open for her. They both hung up their coats and slipped out of their shoes. Sansa was relieved to unstrap her heels. They were light, with silver straps, but they did hurt her feet after a few hours. She unclasped her earrings and put them in the jewelry box on her nightstand. She expected Jon might sweep her off her feet next, and carry her to the bed like he had a few times before, making them both laugh.

Instead he grasped her waist and kissed her, hard, hard enough to make her gasp. He hesitated for a second at the sound, but she slipped her hand behind his head and kissed him with more fervor than she ever had. Soon he was delving into her mouth again, holding her firmly to him, drawing small moans from her. He pulled away, and turned her around. “Put your hands on the wall, Sansa.” There was something new and commanding in his tone that made her knees weak. She could feel his solid presence behind her. She placed her hands on the wall, on either side of her shoulders. The surface was cool under her palms.

Jon took a deep breath. He swept his hand up the back of her neck. Sansa was already aching, and needy. He undid her clasp, and she felt her curls fall to her shoulders. Jon leaned in to whisper in the shell of her ear. He still hadn’t taken off his jacket, and she could feel the scratch of the wool on her skin. His voice was a dark rasp.

“I wanted to take that clasp out all night. But not until we were home.”  

“Why?” She sounded breathless to her own ears. He covered one of her hands on the wall with his own, flexing his fingers over hers.  

Jon ran his other hand through her hair, letting the strands pour through his fingers. “Because I didn’t want to let anyone else see you, with your hair down, in this dress. Only me.” Jon tipped her head to the side. “Do you have any idea how tempting you are, Sansa? How it drives me wild–” he pulled one of the thin straps off her shoulder “–when I have to watch you dance with another man?”

“It was just Theon,  _god_  Jon–” He nipped at her earlobe, then her throat, and her voice skittered up to a whine. The feel of his teeth on her skin was thrilling, and she didn’t want him to stop.

“I don’t care. I don’t want him touching you. You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.” A shudder went through her when Jon’s voice deepened on the word  _mine._

“Keep your hands on the wall, Sansa.” She did as she was told. She heard Jon rid himself of his jacket. He stood behind her again, and started to gather up the fabric of her dress, rucking it up her thigh. She could hear the slither of the silk. He slid his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She could feel how hard he was through his trousers. She was captivated by how they must look – Jon was still fully clothed, and she was half-bare in front of him.

Sansa felt his hot breath on her neck. “And I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you walk out in your dress.” Jon had bunched the fabric up to her waist, and his fingers were almost at her cunt. Sansa was soaking wet, and she couldn’t help it, she pushed back into him. He sucked in a breath when he felt how wet she was. “Fuck, Sansa–” She whimpered, both from the brush of his fingers and the rough, tender way he cursed. Jon had never said that word during sex, and it told her how far gone he was, how much she had undone him. “So wet. I love how ready you are for me when I touch you.” She looked at him over her shoulder, and risked a confession. “I was like this when you kissed me in the hall, Jon. I’ve needed you all night.”

Jon groaned and flipped her around to face him, dipping his hand under her panties. She bit her lip as he stroked her clit, letting him bring her to the edge of her release. He pushed the last strap of her dress off, and the green silk pooled at her waist. Jon nipped at her neck again, and growled into her ear. “We never would have left the fucking house, Sansa. I would have kept you here the whole time if I knew.” She roamed her hands over his shirt, wishing desperately that she could take it off. He slid two fingers inside her, and she bucked her hips, mewling. A bolt of pleasure went through her as he curled his fingers at just the right angle.

She took his face in her hands, feeling reckless and drunk, tingling all the way down to her toes. “Should I tell you next time?” He pulled the last of the dress off of her, along with her panties, and she shimmied her hips to help him. He kissed her, rough and deep, claiming her mouth. He broke away and looked her up and down. His pupils were blown. “Next time I’m going to find out, and if you’re this ready for me, we aren’t going to leave until I’m done with you.” He took full advantage of the access he had to her body, skimming her hips and her waist. He cupped her breasts, kneading them in his hands, sucking on each of her hardened nipples until she was writhing and tugging at his hair, begging him for more. She distantly heard him unbuckling his belt before his hands were on her again. He’d only rid himself of his pants, and she felt the buttons on his shirt graze her skin as he kissed her again.  

Sansa remembered enough to wrap her legs around his waist when he lifted her up. Some scrap of her mind made note of how strong he was. He held her as if she weighed nothing, as if he could hold her against this wall all night. His eyes were fixed on hers as he teased her entrance with the tip of his cock. She scrambled for purchase on his shoulders, trying in vain to pull him closer, pleading with him as she returned his gaze.

“Jon, please–”

“Look at me, Sansa.” His dark eyes were intense, burning. “Tell me what you need.”

She was intoxicated, dizzy with desire, and she stumbled over the words.

“You, Jon, inside me, take me–”

He slid into her easily, with a low groan, and it felt so, so good to have him inside of her that Sansa locked her legs around his waist instinctively. She’d expected him to speed up, but instead he thrust into her slowly, fully, and it was the sweetest agony as he pushed her into the wall again and again. She was fluttering around his cock in a matter of minutes. Jon seemed entranced by her face.

“God, I can feel you, you’re close, say it, Sansa. Tell me who you belong to.” Their foreheads were touching. Normally she couldn’t climax without him touching her clit, but he’d teased her so much, worked her into such a state that she was overwhelmed by the fullness and pressure building up inside her. She’d tip her head back and give into it, except she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

“You, Jon, I’m yours, just yours.” She was, completely, she couldn’t tell where she started and he stopped.

He picked up speed when he heard her. “Fuck, yes, you’re mine, beautiful girl, say it again–”

She was trembling, shaking, on the cusp of her orgasm. She threaded her fingers through his hair and clasped her hands behind his head, keeping their foreheads together. “Jon, please, I’m yours, I belong to you, don’t stop–”

His gaze was locked onto hers. “I’m not stopping, not now, not ever, you’re mine, mine alone, and you’re going to come with me,  _now_ –”

Her body responded to his command, and she had to drop her head back against the wall as she seized around him. White light flashed in front of her eyes, and his name spilled from her lips. She dug her nails into his shoulders as wave after wave of exquisite contractions washed over her. She heard him moan her name as his strokes coarsened, and he came with her.

***

Sansa got her other wish, because after a few minutes of catching their breath, Jon had scooped her up and carried her the short distance to the bed. She’d rid him of his shirt, and she was finally curled up on his chest, surrounded by his warmth and his scent. She loved moments like this, after sex, maybe as much as she enjoyed the sex itself – when they were comfortable and content in each other’s presence. He caressed her cheek lazily. She was relaxed, still feeling the echoes of the intense experience they’d had. “You must like that dress, Jon.”

She could feel him chuckle. “I’m glad you decided to wear it. I hoped you would.”

That didn’t sound quite right. She raised her head. “Wait, what?”

Jon looked guilty. “Um…”

“Did Marg talk to you about this?”

Jon played with the ends of her hair. “She mentioned it.” Jon stopped her protests before she could get worked up. “Sansa, I didn't tell her anything about us. She just kind of - hit me with the topic."

“But how on earth did she bring it up?” Margaery and Sansa were very close, but Jon and Margaery had a casual friendship.

Jon’s mouth twitched. “At work. She was direct, as always.” The Tyrell family ran the law firm where Margaery, Jon and Sansa were employed. Sansa chalked up Margaery’s willingness to talk about scandalous topics at the office to her sense of security in her position.

“Now this I have to hear.” Sansa snuggled back into the crook of his arm.

Jon sighed. “The day before the wedding, she stopped by in the morning to ask after Robb and Jeyne. I was happy to see her, but–”

“You wanted her to leave after five minutes so you could finish your coffee and get to work.” Jon was especially focused in the morning.

Jon kissed the top of her head. “It’s almost as if you know me well somehow, Sansa Stark.” She nudged him, and he kept going. “Right, so she’s leaving, and on her way out, she tosses this remark over her shoulder: ‘By the way, if Sansa’s wearing that green dress you like so much when you go to the wedding, she might be trying to tell you that she wants you to throw her against a wall and ravish her.” She thought it was hilarious when I choked on my coffee.”

“So that’s why you had a stain on your shirt.”

“Yep.” He knitted his brow. “I don’t want to just have that kind of sex, Sansa. I love...I love what we usually...”

Sansa put a finger to his lips, to help him out. “So do I, Jon. There’s a really long and complicated ice cream analogy that I’ll tell you about later.”

He blinked. “I was not expecting that, but sure, sounds good.” 

She reached up and tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me a long time ago that you wanted to try this?”

He smiled and sat up, wrapping his arms around her, making her squeal. “Because I wasn’t going to throw you up against a wall unless I knew you’d like it, and I had no idea how to ask you.”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “ We really are a pair, huh? Two people too shy to ask each other. I liked it. A lot. I definitely want to do it again.”

Jon huffed out a laugh. “Thank god, because I thought I might have to live on that memory for a lifetime.”


End file.
